Monday, June 15, 2009

The Scent of Water

I ran across this phrase as I was reading this evening in the Book of Mormon:

"...I beheld that the rod of iron, which my father had seen, was the word of god, which led to the fountain of living waters, or to the tree of life; which waters are a representation of the love of God; and I also beheld that the tree of life was a representation of the love of God." (1 Nephi 11:25)

I really like the thought of a fountain of living waters that represents the love of God. It makes me think of beautiful forest streams that seem to spring out of the ground to give water and life. This verse reminded me of another verse I love. It is in both the Book of Mormon and the Old Testament:

"Therefore, with joy shall you draw water out of the wells of salvation." (2 Nephi 22:3 and Isaiah 12:3)

And then there is this:

"For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground; yet through the scent of water it will bud, and bring forth boughs like a plant." (Job 14:7-9)

The love of God comes in so many ways. This evening we ate at the picnic table under the cherry tree. It was a perfect evening in early summer. The air was alive with promise, and after dinner I picked six cherries from the tree above my head for dessert.

A few minutes ago, after I had already started writing this post, my mother called to tell me that her only sister, my beloved Aunt Mary Anne, is dying. She went in for a fairly simple procedure this afternoon as part of her chemotherapy treatments for breast cancer. Her heart stopped during the procedure, and they have had her on life support all afternoon, but she never revived. Now they have removed the tubes, and she will die peacefully sometime in her sleep tonight, with her children at her side. She was always kind to me. She was opinionated and bossy and blunt, and also deeply tender and loving. I will miss her so. I am certain that she will be greeted tonight by my Uncle Bill, who died just last December, and by her parents, my wonderful maternal grandparents, who I still think of often, and miss, even though they died over thirty years ago.

The sweetest gift, of all the gifts from a loving God, is to know that we can be together again, and that families can be together forever.

Why I Write

Kathy Haynie writes as witness to the mundane and miraculous, the holy and hilarious. She is matriarch to an astonishingly large blended family: 1 husband, 9 children, and 25 grandchildren, which attests to possibility, complexity, agony, and joy. But most especially, joy.